"You're a fine pair of rascals," he exclaimed; "causing your people no end of anxiety!" The war correspondent had heard the particulars of their adventure almost as soon as the Victor Strozzi reached Tripoli. The news of how two English lads had evaded the Commander-in-Chief's express orders had spread through the fleet, the transports, and the army; and Arthur Reeves heard of it from a fellow correspondent directly he set foot ashore.
"The dad knows all about it by now," replied Hugh; "so he won't mind."
"He'll be glad to see you back," said Mr. Reeves grimly. "You are to return by the Aleppo. She sails for Brindisi the day after to-morrow."
"Hard lines!" ejaculated Hugh. "But since we've one clear day, couldn't you take us ashore? There's not much doing at present—I mean, you're not very busy, are you?"
"Not more than usual," replied Mr. Reeves meaningly. "However, if you promise not to get into mischief, I'll see what can be done."
In less than half an hour the war correspondent returned with the welcome news that the lads could go ashore as soon as they were able, with the proviso that they were to be under Mr. Reeves's direct supervision, and were not to approach within one kilometre of the firing line.
"That's fair and reasonable, you must understand," concluded their newly-appointed guardian. "The Italian officials are trusting you, and if anything goes wrong I must be responsible; so remember! Boys will be boys, I know; but don't betray the confidence that is placed in you."
Hugh and Gerald gave the required promise. A boat was lying at the gangway of the Victor Stroggia, and into this the three Englishmen stepped. As the boat shot under the stern of the ship, Mr. Reeves pointed to a small craft of about twenty tons, painted black, with felucca rig.
"That's the Victor Strozzi," he announced. "Not much resemblance between the two vessels, eh?"
"She's rather small to make such a long voyage."